


Counterglow

by midnightflame



Series: The Lives We Want [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Biting, Injury, Kiba is a dog through and though, M/M, Marking, Mild Painplay, Prequel, yay smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7868050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightflame/pseuds/midnightflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between staring down impending death and the expectations of a village he had once left for dead, Sasuke finds relief in the strangest of places. </p><p>Or, the unexpected benefits of having Kiba as your counterpart.</p><p>(Prequel to The Effect of Impact on Stationary Objects)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counterglow

**Author's Note:**

> So, what began as a dive into something fun and out of the ordinary has now become the unexpected prequel to the other piece I've been working (The Effect of Impact on Stationary Objects). While writing that I just became intrigued with the relationship of these two as ANBU and it sort of pieced itself into this. I should probably apologize. . .

He’s barely ten steps into the hotel room before he finds his back shoved roughly up against a wall, a hand planted resolutely right beside his head and a leg wrestling itself into position between his thighs. Instinctively, his right hand is grabbing hold of the wrist beside him, fingers vice-like as they clamp down, while his other hand finds purchase along jawline, ready to shift his weight at any moment and turn the tide of momentum back in his favor.

Instead, there’s a bark of a laugh followed by a low growl as Kiba leans close and grins in his face, canines flashing sharp in the silvered shards of moonlight.

“I know we just finished a mission, Uchiha, but who knew even you could let your guard down enough to be caught like this.”

Sasuke breathes out heavily, heart still pounding from the shock of surprise, the adrenaline of another mission cleared, and something a bit more wanton in its demands upon him. He tilts his head, ever so slightly to the right, and smirks right against Kiba’s lips.

“You say that like I hadn’t actually orchestrated this,” Sasuke taunts, his eyes meeting Kiba’s briefly before dropping to his lips in overt suggestion. And true to his form, Kiba takes the bait and presses their lips together, the kiss warmed by the high that only ever comes from surviving yet another round with death. Sasuke can taste the blood on Kiba’s lips, the lower left edge busted after he had taken a rather savage hit to his ANBU mask, causing it to skew sideways and catch his mouth as he narrowly avoided the second hit. It’s sharp, metallic on his tongue, reminding him of all the ways they are still very much alive.

He can’t say he particularly dislikes it, even if the swelling makes for a rather awkward kiss in general. Not that Kiba seems to mind, only growling deeper when Sasuke nips dangerously close to the cut. 

“Fuck you,” is all Kiba manages to pant before taking Sasuke’s mouth again, pushing his tongue past lips. His free hand is already tugging at the buckles of Sasuke’s ANBU vest, unfastening with due diligence, and Sasuke can’t help but be mildly fascinated with how well Kiba conducts the task, all memory driven and second-nature-by-now. They’ve only been together in ANBU for eight months, but already they’ve seen more missions than either had before the War. Some had been simple enough by ANBU terms, carrying classified information from one village to another, while others - like today’s - involved near-miss assassinations that left them battered and bruised but well out of the grave. 

It’s after missions like this that Sasuke has come to find Kiba at his absolute worst. More beast than human, craving, demanding, and giving endlessly of himself until he’s fully satisfied. And somehow, in that, Sasuke has found his own post-mission release, letting go of all the village’s expectations, the weightiness of his own past and simply drowning in the moment with someone who wants nothing more than just that - his very present self. 

His flak jacket snaps free but remains loose against his chest, held in place by the weight of their bodies and the solid presence of the wall at his back. It doesn’t stop Kiba from sliding his hand up under the material of his shirt, from clawing at his navel like somehow it might open Sasuke up further. 

Sasuke tips his head back, eyes flashing bright in the moonlight. “I’ll get to that soon enough.”

The moment his lips curl, forming his usual smirk soaked in arrogance, Kiba is raking his fingertips down towards his groin. Sasuke can feel his cock react, just starting to harden at the promise of more. Kiba is already erect against him, hips pressing against his inner thigh shamelessly. It’s more than enough to make him feel hollowed out, waiting to be filled by something other than the tactics that had driven their mission, of the lives they had taken, of the reality that this world is not everything they had all hoped for after the War. Whenever he’s with Kiba like this, Sasuke feels like he’s the closest thing to human he can freely be.

And he hates that almost as much as he needs it.

Taking a step back, Kiba grins at him once more, victorious (Sasuke had known his burgeoning erection hadn’t gone unnoticed), as he peels off his shirt. His own ANBU flak jacket had been discarded before Sasuke had arrived. What Kiba had done with it he can’t say, but that fact seems rather trivial when Kiba is staring at him like he’s the first good meal he’s about to have in a very long time. It’s enough to put a shudder to his spine, stilling the breath in his lungs. And Sasuke knows Kiba can detect every subtle change, a rather damning aspect as far as Sasuke is concerned. For everything his Sharingan allows him to see, Kiba’s senses can pick-up on them almost as rapidly. 

He forces the breath out through his nose as Kiba’s grin twists with amusement. His fingers are already toying with the button of his pants, full-on taunt because he knows Sasuke is watching him. Poking and prodding with every little gesture. But in these moments, more is carried by Kiba’s actions than anything he bothers saying. Sasuke almost prefers it this way, with words rendered near useless (save for riling one or both of them up further), allowing him to dissolve himself in one simple but powerful act. One that has its own death-of-an-end without all the strung-gut feeling that came with battle.

His gaze strays to Kiba’s chest after a moment. There’s a bruise blossoming over his left side, a hard hit taken at some point Sasuke can’t recall. It could have been due simply to the way Kiba fights, all feral ferocity and reckless bravado, but the five nin they had faced had been worth some semblance of respect for pushing them both as hard as they had. His fingers twitch at his side, overcome with an urge to touch the burgeoning spray of blue and purple over Kiba’s skin.

Instead, he steps away from the wall, sliding out of his flak jacket and letting it hit the floor with a heavy thud. Before he can close the distance between them, Kiba is already stealing into his personal space, gripping the edge of his shirt as he closes his mouth over Sasuke’s once more. The first kiss is rough, still tasting of blood and desperation. The second comes lighter, teasing. Sasuke takes the opportunity to flick his tongue against the swollen part of Kiba’s lip, earning him a pleasantly surprised growl. Kiba had never really shied away from the prospect of pain, and something in the remembrance of it only seemed to spur him on further, reminding him perhaps of how close he tended to come to landing himself in a hospital bed. 

A few seconds later, there comes an insistent tug on the hem of his shirt. Sasuke steals one last kiss, smirk curving into the last few breaths of it, before he leans back, letting Kiba pull the material from his skin. It catches momentarily as Kiba wrestles it up and over his right shoulder, earning a small frown. Sasuke had almost forgotten about it. A failed attempt at dislodging his flak jacket, resulting in a kunai tearing into his shoulder as it slipped beneath and stuck on the jerk to pull it back out. It was only after dispatching the nin that had launched the attack in the first place that Sasuke removed the kunai from where it had become trapped. He hadn’t had much time afterwards to think about the gash it had left in its wake.

Kiba sniffs the air, his eyes darting from Sasuke’s gaze to his shoulder.

“Since when did you get hurt?” he asks, far too casually. It’s a poor attempt at hiding his concern. For all they bitched, for all they fought with one another, at some point Kiba had come to consider him a teammate and in that Sasuke had learned the unfortunate habit of _caring_ Kiba had for them.

Sasuke gives his shoulder a roll. “Says the man with his chest bruising spectacularly before me.”

It comes out a little harsher than he intended. But Kiba is laughing at him, undaunted, as he pokes at his own chest. _See, doesn’t hurt. Not a fucking bit._

Sasuke cants his head to the side, studying carefully, almost considerately, the position Kiba has struck up before him. His shoulders are broader than his own, body a bit more heavily muscled, but it barely affords Kiba any advantage when push comes to shove between them. He reaches out, setting a hand to Kiba’s chest with a quirk of his eyebrow, then rakes his nails down over the bruise without any warning, adding brilliant streaks of red to liven up the midnight hues. Kiba hisses low in his throat, eyes narrowing dangerously. It’s a look that has Sasuke tipping his chin up, gloating - _you want to say that again?_

The shirt Kiba had removed from him is tossed to the floor. A careless gesture, one and done and immediately forgotten. Sasuke puts a single finger up, beckoning. While he didn’t welcome pain in the same idiotic fashion Kiba did when it came to battle, he had no qualms about a little roughness in the bedroom (not that this is the usual for him by any means, but at some point Kiba had become the familiar in it and rather than stifle himself with the thoughts of why, Sasuke simply let it continue as they both felt the need for it). Something about it set a live wire in his core, sparking life into him for as long as he allowed the encounter to last. An electrifying distraction.

Kiba is grinning at him again, his excitement untempered, unabated. His hands are on Sasuke’s hips, thumbs running circles over skin; his lips set to his jaw, dragging kisses down his neck like secondhand thoughts, lazy and half-formed. It almost has a moan forming in Sasuke’s throat. But, rather than give it voice, Sasuke simply lets his lips part, the corner curving wickedly in its taunt. It has Kiba’s grin pulling to a fine slit of a smile.

“You’re a real fucking asshole, you know that, Sasuke. . .” 

This time, it’s Sasuke turn to laugh, dark and low and everything Kiba loves to hear in these moments. Because it tells him Sasuke is open and fearless, that he will be as he has always been because he knows Kiba can handle it. As genin, it had grated on Kiba like a cat’s tongue, rubbing skin raw with slow precise strokes. As an ANBU member (or as Sasuke liked to tell him, _an adult_ ), it leaves Kiba wanting to pull Uchiha Sasuke apart. Just enough to watch him unfurl into something staggeringly human. 

“Heh. . .tell me something I don’t know.”

Kiba is smiling against Sasuke’s mouth now, taking tiny nips at his lower lip without giving into the temptation of a kiss. “You make the most amazing sound when you come. . .”

That has Sasuke stutterstepping in his breath. His eyes narrow sharply, focused more on the way Kiba’s tongue flicks across his own lips rather than issuing any real threat. 

“You haven’t even gotten me there yet,” he retorts, a rough edge to his voice.

“ _Soon enough_ , right?” Kiba can’t help but throw the words right back at Sasuke. And this time, there’s a genuine laugh pouring up and out of Sasuke’s throat, warm in its amusement. It’s a sound all the more beautiful for its rarity. Kiba half wishes Sasuke let himself go like this more often, just enough to show the world he’s more than a bloodline and a disaster of a past. 

But Sasuke has never been like that. Too many questions. Too little trust. Too much reluctance to forget. 

Maybe that’s what he enjoys about these moments - watching Sasuke shrug off his burdens and simply live in a moment. Maybe it’s why he kept at that despite everything else. Sasuke never bothers to ask, and he never bothers to answer despite it. It’s a wonderful little balance of interests they seem to have going.

Sasuke kisses him then, deep and promising, before he pulls away, just like that, with fire in his eyes and on his tongue, hot in a final flick against Kiba’s lips.

“Definitely an asshole,” Kiba mutters, breathless.

Sasuke is reaching down to sweep his shirt off the floor. He tosses it over top his flak jacket before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a hair tie. He’s been meaning to get it cut - his hair - but between missions and the recovery from said missions, the idea of cutting his hair had gotten shuffled under a pile of to-do lists in his mind. For the time being, he sweeps his hair into a short ponytail, nothing like what his brother had sported but enough to pull up when the heat and humidity lured sweat to his skin like pressure pulled pain from a wound. 

After a brief sweep of the bed (already thrown into disarray by Kiba, who must have taken to napping before his arrival), Sasuke’s gaze fixes on the half-shuttered window, the slips of moonlight sliding through the openings provided. Even the night, with its light breezes, provides little relief from the humidity. Yet, he doesn’t find it stifling, not at all in these moments. Sasuke can hear Kiba move in behind him, waits patiently for the set of his hands against his hips, the toying press of his fingers over the zipper of his pants. 

He’s waiting for it, that eventual slide of hand against his cock, testing his readiness. So, when Kiba’s tongue glides along the expanse of his shoulder, running alongside the wound there, Sasuke’s entire body shivers with surprise, the anticipation of pleasure tangling with the spark of pain. When teeth set to skin, Sasuke almost jerks back, ready to nail Kiba in the gut with an elbow. He’s stopped by an arm sliding across his abdomen, drawing him in close and closer still, until the press of Kiba’s erection rubs hard against his ass. Tongue coasts along his gash once more.

“I’m not a fucking dog,” Sasuke growls.

Kiba huffs out a laugh against his back, setting a light kiss to the top of his spine and moving in slow succession back towards the laceration with each kiss following. He grinds his hips again, and Sasuke doesn’t know whether he wants to introduce Kiba to a state of unconsciousness or fuck him on the spot.

“I can still take you like one though.” It’s a low murmur into his shoulder, and this time, Kiba does set a hand to his cock, rubbing Sasuke through the fabric of his pants. He bites down against Sasuke’s shoulder, right where arm connects, as he feels Sasuke stiffen against him. Really, how is a man to take it when the rigidity putting steel into his spine counters the heat setting it into his cock? “Guess I can do you a favor and ride you instead. . .you are _injured_ and all.”

Sasuke doesn’t miss the taunt in those words, but he’s not about to be goaded into playing an obvious hand in this game. Instead, he lets a smirk take his lips, the curve slow and deliberate in its formation. “Aa. . .so maybe you should prepare yourself.”

Kiba almost chokes on a laugh behind him. Lips still against his skin, where Sasuke knows he had been dedicating his efforts towards creating a rather undeniable hickey. And then, Kiba is laughing in full, letting his lips drift along his shoulder with the sound until he’s kissing at the nape of Sasuke’s neck. The sound - rich, warm, and genuine - sends a thrill down Sasuke’s spine. It’s everything he tells himself he doesn’t need.

“I really thought you’d let me fuck you with that one,” Kiba says, voice still colored bright with amusement. 

“Giving up already?” Sasuke asks with a glance behind him. Kiba meets his gaze, dark eyes half-lidded. With a tip of his head back, Sasuke brushes his lips against Kiba’s jaw. Something about that look, the base want that Kiba never manages to disguise, sets the fire licking at his insides until he’s raw with desire himself.

“What do you think I was doing waiting for your sorry ass to get here?” Words murmured against his shoulder as Kiba finds his previously abandoned mark and set his teeth against it. 

Sasuke knows he isn’t looking for an answer, but he gives one anyways, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. That last bite had sent a shockwave of pain rippling over his skin, finding root in the gash across his shoulder. “Sleeping. . .”

“You know what they say about sleeping dogs. . .” Kiba counters, the grin evident in his voice. He had enjoyed that last reaction, the way Sasuke’s body had strung itself tight, muscles cording in anticipation of something more - pain, pleasure, everything Kiba would offer and then some. 

Sasuke shifts as Kiba’s arm tightens its hold around his stomach, pulling him in closer. No hesitation as his shoulder meets Kiba’s chest, no shyness in the way blood certainly outlines his wound over another’s skin. A fine imprint of a battle well won. Tongue is run up along Sasuke’s neck, stopping only as teeth nip at jawline, smoothed over seconds later by another lap of tongue. Sasuke reaches up and threads his fingers through Kiba’s hair, tugging to bring an ear to his own lips. Kiba’s breathing comes out hard, stained with laughter, as Sasuke nibbles on his lobe, as he murmurs his next words with a smile of his own.

“Then I suggest you go lie back down so I can rouse you properly. . ..”

“Still such an asshole.” 

But he’s slipping away, leaving Sasuke bereft of the heat Kiba’s body has always provided in these moments, running almost as hot as himself. He’s warm in ways different though, something innate and strangely kind about it, so unlike Sasuke’s own, which seems determined to burn right out of his skin at times, embers just waiting to catch fire once more and raze it all to the ground. Kiba’s warmth is consistent, animal-born and as natural as breath itself. He almost regrets giving the order until he turns to see Kiba stripping himself clean of clothes, catches the sharp lines of muscle across his back. 

When Kiba turns around, there’s no denying his desire. He palms his erection, once, twice, then kicks his head towards the bed. 

“Not like I have to ask you to come, since I’ll be making sure of that anyway. . .”

Sasuke huffs out, oddly amused. “And you’re still annoyingly arrogant.”

“You like it,” Kiba retorts, smile pulling just tight enough to reveal the point of canine teeth. All Sasuke sees is a wolf caught between panting and snarling. And he knows enough about Kiba now to know that look tells him he’s pushing a fine line with him - act or risk being acted upon. 

It has a smile curving his lips, sharp and remorseless in response. “Can’t stand it, actually.”

He’s moving towards the bed then, hands popping free the button of his pants, pulling down his zipper bit by bit. The press of his cock against his underpants is almost agonizing, having denied its existence for the last few minutes, as if acknowledging Kiba’s effect on him would only threaten a quicker release.

Kiba reaches out, snagging the edge of Sasuke’s pants to tug him in closer. No intention of granting him the right of a languid divestment. He dips a hand below the waistband of Sasuke’s boxerbriefs and runs his thumb over the head of his cock. Sasuke bites back a moan, releasing instead a hard puff of air from his nose. There’s a half-cocked smile sitting on Kiba’s lips, almost disbelieving. His gaze briefly catches Sasuke’s eyes ( _still fighting this_ ) before he closes his eyes and sets mouth to throat. Sasuke can feel Kiba’s lips parting, ready for the bite and instead finds the tip of a canine being carefully dragged down over the pulse of his jugular.

This time, Sasuke feels his heart stumble, his breath turning ragged for several stupidly long seconds. For gods’ know how many times today, he’s staring down potential death, even as he instinctively knows Kiba would never clamp down over his throat like that, would never draw such a spill of blood from him. It’s the prospect, of knowing there before him is a man who could bring him this close to an end, one he has _allowed_ , that has his core knotting with fear and desire. 

A whole fucking lot of desire, riotous in his mind, in his body.

“No condom. . .” is all Sasuke manages to spit out, voice shredded by the sudden force of his need to see Kiba coming beneath him.

And he hates, positively absolutely _hates_ , the way he can feel Kiba’s lips curving into a grin against his neck. 

Kiba breathes out, slow and measured. “You haven’t been fucking anyone else right?”

This time, it’s Sasuke’s turn for incredulity. A blink, as he tips his head back to catch Kiba’s gaze. “Have you?”

“You know I’m not the type.” Kiba says it with such open honesty that it takes his breath away. Sasuke hates that too - how wretchedly sincere Kiba can be about such things. Because he knows it’s truth, just like he knows Kiba cares about his teammates, how nothing will stop him from standing beside them. How he would belong to one and only one, even if it’s nothing more than sex, no string’s attached, no hearts up for the crushing.

While Sasuke finds himself split between past and future, it’s Kiba who always lives gloriously in the moment. And always, always pulls Sasuke right into it with him. 

He’s blinking again at Kiba, disarmed by the odd splash of a smile there on his lips. It’s almost affectionate, warm and contented, yet clearly questioning. It puts something else fluttering about within his core, and he is even more surprised to find it’s not at all in conflict with everything else Kiba has set loose in there. 

“What?” Sasuke asks, and is left wondering when he got so uncertain with his own voice.

Kiba gives a shake of his head, falling back onto the mattress after disentangling himself from Sasuke. He’s scouring through the sheets. Somehow though, Sasuke can tell he’s pleased, and that just irritates the ever living fuck out of him. His mouth is pulled to a tight line when Kiba finally twists himself around and tosses a small bottle at him.

Sasuke stares at him, dumbfounded. “You had the time to get lube, but not condoms. . .”

Every scrap of irritation he had felt coalescing into something monstrous had been obliterated by the realization. One simple act of stupidity to undo all the worst of him. Some could argue it borders on brilliance.

Kiba slides back over to the edge of the mattress, his cock bobbing against his stomach. He spreads his legs, the position altogether lewd (because quite frankly Sasuke’s better senses in this moment can’t seem to forgive the fact that Kiba had managed to purchase one of two somewhat vital things when it came to sex) and yet inviting (but let’s face it, he’s hard and his cock is aching, and he wants nothing more than to fuck whatever excuse right out of Kiba’s head). Palming his own erection, Kiba looks up at him, grin cutting sharp across his lips with shameless pride. 

“Yeah, well I thought tonight would be the night I’d finally get to come inside you. . .”

He’s not sorry, not in the least. That much Sasuke can tell with a mere glance, though maybe it’s the way Kiba’s eyes narrow at him, feral in its ferocity, that smashes any perception of contrition. It’s all the motivation Sasuke needs to slide out of of the rest of his clothes, kicking pants and undergarments towards the rest of the pile he had half-heartedly formed with the rest.

“A poor miscalculation on your part,” Sasuke starts as he moves in on Kiba. He pours some of the lubricant into his hand, slicking it along his length as he pulls to a halt before the bed. A knee sinks into the mattress on Kiba’s left side, and after giving himself one final stroke, his hand follows suit. His right hand finds its way to the back of Kiba’s neck, fingers snaking into hair once more. All the while, Kiba simply smiles at him, lips slightly parted, a perfect display of eagerness, of unrepentant desire about to have its fill. Kiba isn’t sorry. But neither is Sasuke. 

“. . .but I guess that’s why you’ve always left,” he mouths against Kiba’s lips, “the tactics to me.”

Kiba bites at his lower lip in response, as if to tell Sasuke to do his absolute worst. It has Sasuke laughing, more of a low vicious sort of chuckle, as he brings his other knee to the bed. Kiba is already hooking a leg around his hip, giving him plenty of room to move into place. As the tip of his cock presses against Kiba’s opening, Sasuke has to take a moment to suppress the shudder rippling down his back. Damning, really, the way desire has so many mechanisms that backfire. Kiba’s lips are back on his, more grin than kiss.

“I hope you prepared yourself well. . .”

“Better than anytime you ever have,” Kiba huffs out, voice thick with want.

It’s all the acquiesce Sasuke needs. He eases himself in, stilling as the head of his cock is enveloped in warmth, as Kiba hisses against his mouth. Eyes closing, he pushes in deeper, a belated, “Fuck you,” passes over his lips as he sinks in to the hilt.

“Appreciate it,” Kiba pants, grin pulling wider still. This time, Sasuke really can’t help but laugh because breaking it all down, they are absolute assholes and neither of them is particularly concerned about that fact. It’s everything that strained their relationship in the past, and yet somehow made for an odd sort of companionship in their present. Kiba starts to chuckle quietly as well, and Sasuke decides that is the perfect moment to shut him up with a kiss, with a slow withdrawal of his cock back to the head. 

Kiba moans softly into the kiss, fingers digging into the sheets. Sasuke swallows the sound whole. 

After that, things fall back into the familiar rhythm of these moments between them. Skirting the line of _just rough enough_ in the way Sasuke thrusts into Kiba, slowing at all the moments he knows Kiba hates it the most (but honestly speaking, it’s those moments that get Kiba riding closest to orgasm) only to jerk forward, hard and almost careless. A pace with well planned hiccups of movement until thought no longer has any place in their sex and it simply becomes a need for release. 

Sasuke’s hand finds itself against Kiba’s chest, tips touching the blood smeared across it from his wound. Beneath, he can just make out the pounding of Kiba’s heart as he drives into him once more. It draws a low growl from Kiba’s throat, a sound that has Sasuke dipping his head low to kiss him once more, only to find Kiba rushing up and setting a bruising force to the act with his ferocity. His left hand is wrapped around Sasuke’s right forearm, fingers strong in their grip as they help Kiba keep his balance. He tightens up around Sasuke’s cock, which has a jagged moan working its way out of his mouth.

“‘Bout time you came, isn’t it. . .” Kiba exhales, heavy and trembling.

“. . .really. . .fucking hate. . .you.”

Because Kiba is right. He’s barely hanging on, the rhythm of his thrusts having grown erratic over the last several moments, his heart hammering in his chest, his core swirling with heat. The hand on Kiba’s chest drops to his cock. Sasuke wraps his fingers around the shaft, stroking off-pace, until Kiba is spilling over Sasuke’s hand, onto his own stomach. Seconds later, Sasuke feels his own orgasm spring-load and burst, a black out of his thoughts, leaving him with that breathless emptying of everything that he is. 

He’s brought back by the swipe of Kiba’s thumb across his cheek. Beneath him, Kiba’s chest is heaving, blood running red again as its mingles with sweat and trickling down over the bruising glowing dark over skin. His eyes are bright, but the smile sitting over his mouth is lazy, sated. 

“Pretty sure you like me,” he huffs out, still a touch breathless. “Just a little bit though.”

***

“So, going to tell me why you were waiting here in my room?”

“I thought that was pretty obvious,” Kiba answers, stuffing his forearms underneath the pillow cradling his head. “And you clearly didn’t seem to mind.”

Sasuke merely offers a quiet _tch_ is response. Beside him, Kiba is stretched out along the length of the bed, the sheets tangled up around his legs and just barely covering his hips. The blood had been wiped from his chest, leaving the bruise bright and clean across his skin. Sasuke can still catch the faint traces of soap when Kiba rolls to his left, allowing him to face Sasuke in full.

“I was talking about that girl. . .” Sasuke says, quiet but unaffected. He’s sitting up against the headboard, two pillows tucked along his spine to give his injured shoulder plenty of breathing room. Kiba had suggested having Hinoko stitch it, unless Sasuke wanted to have Sakura threatening to kill him for his lack of self-care; Sasuke had merely told him he would be better off remembering spit didn’t heal wounds. “. . .that one you were talking about a few weeks ago. Weren’t you dating her?”

Kiba blinks up at him, his shock clear as spring water splashed across his face. “She said if we were going to start dating she wanted me out of ANBU. . .”

Sasuke just barely catches the notes of regret tucked within Kiba’s words. Everything stills in his head , quieting abnormally. Kiba seems almost strange to him then, and Sasuke finds himself studying him like a butterfly landed just steps away from a spider's web. Unsure of whether to move at all, lest his movements should send the creature to its doom. Even as he knows that may be the inevitability of its life in that moment, whether he tries to save it or not. "Then why didn't you resign from your post?"

This time, the surprise that flits across Kiba's face isn't one spawned by _concern Uchiha Sasuke almost never shows_ and instead is more intrinsically driven. The smile laying over his lips softens, ever so slightly. "Because you and I both know Naruto needs us here, no matter how much that moron would protest it. Especially if he knew things like this." Kiba exhales, turning to lay on his back once more, but not without giving Sasuke a questioning look. ". . .what?"

"I didn't know your thoughts could run that deep." Sasuke is barely able to conceal the smirk peeking through the left corner of his mouth. 

Kiba snorts. "Aren't people generally less of an asshole after sex?"

"Don't know who you've been sleeping with if you think that."

"Must be my problem right there - I just keep fucking you for some reason. Meanwhile, everyone else is having the time of their post-sex lives with sweet nothings and warm loving embraces to fall asleep to. . ."

Reaching out, Sasuke flicks the tip of Kiba's nose, earning him a surprised yelp. "Tch. . .You're not anywhere close to sleep."

Watching as Kiba rubs at his nose, feigning pain with a melodramatic grimace (his eyes are sparking with thoughts of retaliation, so Sasuke knows there's nothing genuine in his hurt), he does his best to steer his thoughts away from the topic they had been treading in. Another moment, though, and the odd itch of worry gets the better of him. He sets his head back against the headboard, eyes closing, hoping the darkness will help dispel his unease. 

"She just wasn't the one," Kiba remarks, as if that is the most blatantly obvious thing in the world, something someone with a bloodline trait as marvelous as the Sharingan should have been able to see. Even if they both know social intricacies have never really been Sasuke's strongest point. "I mean, yeah, one day I probably won't want to be in ANBU anymore. I'll want something else, like getting completely overrun with my own pups and watching them grow and do all the stupid shit we did just because we thought we could, but right now, I'm here. Because there is still a whole lot of stupid shit we can be doing for the people we care about."

Kiba is staring up at him. And Sasuke begins to wonder when it was they both grew up, when they both started thinking about all the things they could be doing for someone outside of their own pride. 

"Besides," Kiba continues, "I'm way too young to be calling it a day and raising a litter beside my sister."

"They're twins, not a litter of puppies."

"Same thing."

Sasuke finds himself smiling despite that strange needling feeling in his chest. "You're an idiot."

Kiba starts chuckling next to him, the sound quiet but rich, amusement warmed by contentment. He rolls back over, body fluid in its motions, and drapes an arm across Sasuke’s lap. His gaze still tells Sasuke he's entertaining thoughts of retribution, though they seem to be on a backburner, simmering gently until the right moment. Overshadowing it is a look far softer, contemplative in ways he has only come to learn Kiba to be over the last few months. He reaches down and riffles Kiba's hair, a gesture that Kiba leans into like a dog having its favorite spot scratched. It's all horribly cliche. 

And wretchedly disarming as Sasuke comes to realize when Kiba speaks next.

“Naruto has his own thoughts on it, you know. . .”

Sasuke merely gives the lift of an eyebrow, indicating to Kiba he should either finish the thought or drop the topic altogether. Trying his damnedest to look unconcerned. But when Naruto gets to talking about his innermost honest thoughts, they never really bode well for Sasuke. Always striking far too close to home in all the ways Sasuke tries horribly to deny.

“You’re going to have to trust Konoha again at some point, Sasuke. At least, that’s what he thinks, about you and the whole family of your own thing. . .” Kiba finishes quietly, testing. His attention has been completely diverted to a spot on Sasuke's bare stomach. 

“Tch. . .Naruto should mind his own damn business," Sasuke mutters. 

Kiba finally seems to relax again, the line of his shoulders easing as a laugh trickles its way out. With a nip centered over Sasuke's left hip, he mumbles out, “You and I both know that’s not happening. This is Naruto we’re talking about, and you’re _you_. . .”

Sasuke exhales with mild irritation. He runs fingers through Kiba’s hair again, lifting it from his face so he can meet Kiba’s gaze directly. There’s the curve of a smile against his skin, the white flash of teeth, and Kiba’s eyes bright with reanimation.

“Round two?” he prods.


End file.
